


Her Darkest Secret

by Popcorn_Lover



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:50:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9310133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Popcorn_Lover/pseuds/Popcorn_Lover
Summary: They all have secrets, including Molly. *Contains Season 4 Spoilers*





	1. The Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC.
> 
> WARNING: CONTAIN SPOILERS!

The ‘cake place’ was in fact a café two blocks away from 221B so Sherlock could not complain too excessively and Molly was already waiting for them, glad to see that they were finally on their road towards reconciliation. The process would take time. After all, it was always easier to forgive others than oneself.

“I’ve ordered the cake in advance, chocolate with strawberries slices and cream as the filling. Your favourite, Sherlock.” The obligatory frown on his face lessened while the pathologist glanced at her watch anxiously and Sherlock commented, “Are you expecting someone else, Molly?”

Flustered, she averted his eye contact and mumbled, “I…Well, I…It’s your birthday, Sherlock and he _is_ your brother…But Mycroft didn’t reply my text, he must be very busy so maybe he’s not coming-” A tall man carrying an umbrella then entered the café, effectively proving wrong of Molly’s assumption.

“Ah, just in time to witness the candle-blowing ceremony, it would seem. I should have arrived a little bit later.” The British Government sat down on the brightly-coloured plastic chair and set aside his umbrella. Before Molly could do anything to break the awkward atmosphere, Sherlock, for some reason, resumed their conversation.

“You were right, Molly. Mycroft was indeed very busy. Not with filing, of course. Something more…strenuous. Not a man, John. A woman. I’m sure Mummy would be pleased to know that you are actually not a monk, Mycroft.” The pathologist was starting to regret her decision in asking him to join them and regret was a handy emotion to hide the dull pang upon hearing that the British Government was with a woman earlier on.

She had no right at all to feel hurt or betrayed, their arrangement was not an exclusive one and Mycroft ended it with her some time ago. Molly was lonely and so was he. At that point of time, it made sense that they should be friends (acquaintances) with benefits, fuck mates, sex partners or whatever people would call it nowadays. It should not come as a surprise to her that the British Government had moved on. Romantic entanglement was something Mycroft would avoid at all cost.

“Do everyone here a favour and shut up, brother mine.” He all but barked at Sherlock and the consulting detective snorted imperiously, “There’s got to be some perks in celebrating one’s birthday. Aside from cake, that is.” John decided to intervene before the situation went out of control, “Alright, boys. Knock it off,” and received two identical glares instead.  

“I’ll just cut the cake and distribute it then.” Molly announced with her fake cheery voice. The Holmes brothers made no objections to her suggestion and the doctor raised his eyebrow at how well they took their cue from the pathologist but chose not to point it out as it was fairly obvious, even to him. A moaning sound was heard when she passed the consulting detective his slice of the cake. The plate that Molly was holding froze in mid-air and she could not help but notice John’s apologetic look.

The text alert was an unwanted reminder of her track record with men. The man that she still loved did not love her back and the other man whom she slept with had long thrown her out of his mind. The pathologist calmly handed out the rest of the birthday cake and stood up from her seat. The three men stared at Molly, “I’m not feeling quite well so I think I better go first.”

“Are you alright? Why don’t I give you a quick check-up, Molls?” She tried not to wince at the words laced with concern when frankly; John was mentally in a worse shape than her.

“I’ll have my chauffeur send you home, Miss Hooper.” She also tried not to wince at how Mycroft addressed her.

“Molly…” She tried not to wince, period but failed miserably so the pathologist settled for closing her eyes and opening them again.

She walked over to the consulting detective and gently kissed his cheek. “Happy birthday, Sherlock.” A moaning sound emitted from his phone once more. Molly pulled back and he said softly, “It was me,” a reference to the disastrous Christmas party at 221B many years ago. She replied with a wistful smile, “I know.” Molly waved to John, “I’ll see you and Rosie tomorrow,” and turned to Mycroft, “Enjoy the cake, it’s really nice.”

The text alert sounded for the third time and Molly managed to hold back her tears and laughter or else she would appear as a mad woman, crying and laughing at the same time. The pathologist knew she would never be their top priority but did not to realise just how much pain that piece of knowledge would bring to her heart until the truth was displayed like a large signboard in Las Vegas, hard to miss or even look away.

The Holmes brothers’ expressions could almost be described as forlorn when they watched Molly leave the café hastily though John kept it to himself since it was fairly obvious too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I call this a rabid plot bunny after watching S4E2, lol.


	2. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC.

Molly rushed back to the safety of her flat where she did not need to pretend that it was okay, that she was alright because it was not okay, she was not alright. Throwing her bag onto a chair, the pathologist sank to the sofa and tucked in her legs. The position used to give Molly comfort, a sense of security yet even when she laid her forehead on her knees, Sherlock’s text alert still would not leave her alone.

Someone knocked on the door and it snapped Molly out of her stupor. The pathologist wiped away the tears with her palm and opened the door. “You left your wallet in the café, Miss Hooper.” Mycroft spoke quietly, as if he was afraid to startle her. A tear went rouge but it was deftly captured by the British Government’s well-manicured finger.

Mycroft, however, did not immediately remove his finger. Instead, he began to trace her cheek, jawline and chin. The trail left a tingling sensation on Molly’s face. The British Government tipped her head upwards and tilted his own. The pathologist’s breath was caught in her throat as Mycroft came to a halt, inches from her trembling lips. “If you want me to cease, now would be the time to say so.” Molly let go of her breath and said, “Don’t stop, Mycroft.”

The gap between the pair of former lovers was closed and they became willing slaves of their own desires that were demanding instant gratification. The lovers were familiar with each other’s body yet every time they came together; it was like an experience unparalleled to the ones which they had previously created.

Breathing harshly, the British Government disengaged himself from Molly and lifted her off the countertop. She helped him to adjust his tie and watch chain before re-buttoning the waistcoat. Initially, Mycroft was uncomfortable with her touching his attire but he had slowly gotten used to it as time passed. The pathologist wondered if he also allowed the other women to do the same for him and her heart was once again ruthlessly ripped open by that thought.

How naïve of her to believe that she would be fine with it.

Not one to behave intimately after sex, Mycroft uncharacteristically tugged on her waist and the pathologist’s hands rested on his shoulders. The atmosphere shifted but with only a small lamp in the living room switched on; Molly could not identify the emotions found in the British Government’s hooded eyes. A moan appeared out of nowhere and their heads instinctively turned to where the sound came from.

Sherlock moved so quickly, the pathologist could only make out his coat and signature curls when he made his exit as abruptly as how he made his entrance. Mycroft released her and bent to pick up the jacket, draping it over his arm. He asked stiffly, “You do not plan to go after my brother?” Molly glanced at the door, “I’m done with chasing,” though her expression told a different story. She looked at the British Government and put out her hand. “My wallet?”

Mycroft smiled wryly, “You know very well that I do not have your wallet in my possession for you did not leave it in the café.” Molly’s lips curled up slightly, “I know.”  

 

* * *

 

“You did it on purpose.” The British Government leaned his umbrella against the leather seat and poured himself a glass of red wine. “Care to have some?” Mycroft offered but it was clear that the consulting detective was not here for a drink. “No? Your loss then.” Formalities done, he returned to the topic at hand. “You were merely at the wrong place and at the wrong time, Sherlock.”

“Bureaucracy made you a very boring man, Mycroft and I wonder what does Molly sees in you.” The consulting detective smirked and cocked his head. “The same could also be asked of you, brother mine.” Sherlock’s smirk disappeared and his eyes hardened. The tension hung thickly in the air until the consulting detective’s posture suddenly loosened like he made an astonishing discovery.

“You are jealous that Molly loves me. You are jealous of _me_.” Mycroft swirled his wine glass and took a delicate sip. “And you are jealous of _me_ having sexual relations with Miss Hooper.” Sherlock grabbed the umbrella and pointed it at the British Government, “If you hurt her…” By no means did Mycroft feel threatened by his brother’s words yet it made him uncomfortable for Sherlock truly cared about her. Annoyed, Mycroft pushed the umbrella away and sneered, “Says the man who constantly makes use of her.”  

“You told me that the east wind is coming and I should fear it. Perhaps you are the one who is afraid of the east wind, brother mine.” The consulting detective shrugged and walked out of the room without a backward glance. Mycroft drained the rest of his drink in one gulp.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter I will be focusing on The Call so...go easy on me? *cringe-smile*


	3. The Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC.
> 
> WARNING: CONTAIN SPOILERS!

Sherlock started deducing who the coffin was meant for and the first person that Mycroft thought of was Molly Hooper. With a frown and lips pressed tightly together, the British Government went to read the name on the lid. It confirmed his suspicions and fears.

I LOVE YOU

Before they were lovers, Mycroft knew of her feelings for his brother. It was painfully obvious to anyone who had eyes and Sherlock was probably aware of it but did not know how to handle the situation so the consulting detective simply looked the other way. Like how he had forced himself to forget Eurus. It was an escape mechanism, his way of coping with things that he could not comprehend.

The British Government observed Molly for a long time and the knowledge did not stop Mycroft from seeking her out, it actually propelled him. Her love for the consulting detective was as strong as his own brotherly love and to some extent; Sherlock pushed away both of their love. Maybe he subconsciously remembered Eurus and blamed Mycroft for her predicament. He failed as their big brother. He was the trigger to all of this and now Molly was in grave danger because of him, dragged into the Holmes’ twisted game because Eurus wanted to hurt Sherlock.

Mycroft made his brother pay for his sins.

He did question his feelings for Molly but the British Government was unable to come up with a definitive answer and that was why Mycroft wanted to end the affair with the pathologist but he just could not stay away from her. She somehow managed to find a crack and set up residence in his old and shrivelled heart. He was the proverbial moth and she the flame but ironic for Molly never intended to catch _his_ attention in the first place.

If the pathologist died as a result, Mycroft would forever lose the light that she brought to him which would be a befitting and fair punishment for his mistakes but Molly did not deserve to die, she was innocent. The British Government then did something that he had never done before. Mycroft silently prayed to God that she would say those words to Sherlock.

Even if it meant that his heart would lose whatever blood that was still pumping within the thin and pale walls, leaving it to rot and eventually die.  

 

* * *

 

The consulting detective once told Irene Adler that he had never begged in his life but he would beg if it meant that Molly would say the bloody release code. Sherlock would do anything to save her.

“Because…it’s true, Sherlock. It’s always been true.”

Molly’s answer sent a blow to his stomach and shook his inner core. Sod it, he was already hurting her. The consulting detective felt downright despicable when he told her to just say it anyway since it was the truth. She called him a bastard which was an apt description of himself but when Sherlock urged Molly, her response caught him off guard. The consulting detective blinked in confusion, "What?"

“Say it. Say it like you mean it.”

“I...I love you...” Sherlock could not recall when was the last time he uttered such words to another human being, perhaps when he was a child and the three words were distinctly foreign on his tongue when he said it.

“I love you.” It was unnecessary but the consulting detective repeated them because it felt right to tell Molly that and for some reason other than the fact that she would not die, his heart was at peace with itself when the pathologist said those words back to him.

“I love you.” Sherlock exhaled loudly and doubled over by the unexpected rush of relief, he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes which were strangely moist. However, the consulting detective’s happiness was short-lived when Eurus informed him that there were no explosives in Molly’s flat. The pathologist was never in peril. It was merely a trick to hurt him by hurting her.      

“...You didn't win, you lost. Look what you did to her. Look what you did to yourself. All those complicated little emotions, I lost count. Emotional context, Sherlock, it destroys you every time.”

With an unfathomable expression on his face, the consulting detective put the lid over the coffin. The words engraved on the coffin plate taunted him while emotions and memories assaulted him – emotions that he tried so hard to keep at bay, memories that were far from forgiving but nothing less of what he deserved. Sherlock Holmes, the world’s first and only consulting detective, was rendered defenceless against the merciless attack and he lost total control of himself.

_I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee._

_Black, two sugars, please. I'll be upstairs._

“No.”

_You always say such horrible things, every time. Always, always._

_I’m sorry. Forgive me. Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper._

“No!”

 _Because_ _I know what that means, looking sad when you think no one can see you._

_You can see me._

_I don't count._

“No!”

_You’re wrong, you know. You do count. You’ve always counted and I’ve always trusted you. But you were right. I’m not okay._

_Tell me what’s wrong._

_Molly, I think I’m going to die._

_What do you need?_

_If I wasn’t everything that you think I am, everything that I think I am, would you still want to help me?_

_What do you need?_

_You._

“No!”

_Moriarty slipped up. He made a mistake. Because the one person he thought didn’t matter at all to me was the one person that mattered the most. You made it all possible._

“No!”

_I hope you’ll be very happy, Molly Hooper. You deserve it. After all, not all the men you fall for can turn out to be sociopaths._

_Maybe it’s just my type._

“No!”

_How dare you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with? And how dare you betray the love of your friends? Say you’re sorry!_

_Sorry your engagement’s over._ _Though I’m fairly grateful for the lack of a ring._

_Stop it. Just stop it._

“No!”

_I'm not an experiment, Sherlock._

_No, I know you're not an experiment, you're my friend. We're friends, but, please, just say those words for me._

_Please don't do this. Just...just...don't do it._

“No!”

_I love you._

_I love you._

Blinded by his rage and vulnerability, the consulting detective let out a scream as he fully immersed himself in the process of obliterating the coffin. It was all he could think of doing. Sherlock needed to break something or else he would be the one who would break.

After releasing all the pressure pent up inside of him, Sherlock sank down to the floor. He hurt Molly. He always hurt her but this time round, it was too much. He went too far. His relationship with Molly was like the wreckage scattered across the room. How to salvage it? Could one piece back the remains of a coffin? Should one even try?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it wasn't too bad, one more chapter to go!


	4. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC.
> 
> WARNING: CONTAIN SPOILERS!

Something must have happened, something very serious, possibly life-threatening and that would explain Sherlock’s abnormal behaviour, Molly thought aloud. Or it could just be a very elaborate excuse that the pathologist concocted to stop herself from overanalyzing the surreal conversation. With a throbbing headache, Molly decided to turn off her phone and go to bed; the world could survive without her for a day.

Morning light sneaked into the pathologist’s room and a tall figure stood by her bed. Looking into Sherlock’s eyes; Molly understood. The pathologist was not sure what exactly took place but she understood one thing, he needed her. Molly was always able to see Sherlock in a way that others could not – his humanity, insecurities, loneliness and sadness. Some might treat it as a burden but the pathologist viewed it as a privilege.  

The consulting detective told her everything. Sherlock told Molly about his sister, Eurus which he had forgotten, how Mycroft kept her in an institution while lying to their parents that she was dead, that Moriarty was in fact controlled by Eurus and Redbeard the dog never existed, it was actually his childhood best friend, Victor Trevor who was killed by his sister.

“Eurus gave me three minutes to make you say ‘I love you’ otherwise she would kill you but it was all a trick. What a fool I was and I hurt you, Molly, I did. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve to go through this…”

The pathologist interrupted him, “And you deserve to go through this? It’s not your fault, Sherlock. It’s not your fault that your friend died, that your sister became like this. I know you will bring Eurus back as you have another person to protect and love now. You will teach her what it means to have a family right?” Molly was rewarded with a bashful grin from the consulting detective and she saw a little boy who was no longer afraid.

It was the first time Molly had seen him looking genuinely happy and she could finally take a step back without worries. “I’m proud of you, Sherlock. Not quite the man-child anymore huh?” The pathologist sniffed, “I meant it. I do love you, Sherlock and I always will because you are in my blood…Gosh, hope I’m not embarrassing you too much!” Molly gave a watery laugh and smiled through her tears. “But I’m not asking you for anything in return so don’t ever feel pressured by me. Just stay like this. Just be you and that’s enough for me.”  

Molly all of a sudden pointed a finger at Sherlock. “Do you still remember the day that we first met?” The consulting detective muttered, “Yes.” She nodded with approval, “Good, don’t you dare delete that memory!” What the pathologist did not know was Sherlock had long saved it into his mind vault. He pulled Molly towards him and she laid her head on his shoulder. Let this moment stretch a little longer, the pathologist secretly hoped but dreams, however wonderful, had to end sooner or later.

Molly was not bidding farewell to Sherlock, she was saying goodbye to her younger self who once had an almost desperate crush on the consulting detective. Molly observed the rise and fall of his chest as Sherlock kissed her on the forehead. The pathologist shut her eyes and tears landed on his shirt, near his heart but neither commented on it.

“I love you too, Molly Hooper. You are my family.” More tears fell and the consulting detective tightened his arm around her shoulder. To him, family members were the ones that would last forever and he did not want to lose Molly. If Sherlock could work up his courage, maybe he would tell her the truth someday.  

_So many days not lived, so many words unsaid._

 

* * *

 

Carrying Rosie on her hip, Molly went to open the door. “Oh, hello Mycroft. Sherlock and John went out to investigate a case but John just called and they are on their way back here as we speak. If you are not in a hurry, why don’t you come in and wait for them?” The pathologist gestured to the living room but if the British Government was any honest, he visited 221B at this precise timing because the security cameras showed that she was alone with the baby.

Mycroft nodded his thanks and sat down. “I’m making tea, do you want some?” Before he could say ‘yes please’, the pathologist thrusted the baby into his arms and entered the kitchen. “W-what…I can’t…Molly...” The British Government panicked and spluttered for words like he was drowning but Mycroft could barely form a proper sentence as Rosie was happily patting his face with her saliva-coated hands while Molly ‘cold-heartedly’ ignored his distressed pleas.

Bored from abusing his cheeks, the baby wriggled vigorously. Alarmed, Mycroft shouted over his shoulder, “Erm, Molly? The offspring seems eager to initiate contact with the ground.” The pathologist answered, “Put her down, Mycroft. Rosie’s at the age where she’s learning to walk.” He carefully placed her on carpeted floor and watched as the baby stood up albeit unsteadily. The British Government then held out his hands, ready to catch her should she fall.  

The corners of Mycroft’s eyes crinkled. Sherlock had gone through this stage too, so did Eurus. Both of his siblings were keen to explore the world around them before they could stand or even walk so from a young age, Mycroft took his job as their big brother very seriously. Exhausted from her little adventure, Rosie landed on her diaper-clad bum but instead of crying, she crawled over to the British Government and raised her arms up. The trust in Rosie’s eyes reminded Mycroft of the past where Sherlock and Eurus used to look at him with that same expression.

Those days were gone but they could be rebuilt, he simply had to work hard for them to trust him again. Smiling, the British Government complied and carried her. Mycroft went back to his seat and Rosie cuddled against his chest. Without thinking, Mycroft kissed the baby’s head and his cheeks tinged with embarrassment when he caught the smirk that Molly directed to him. The pathologist laid down two cups of hot tea and a plate of biscuits on the small wooden table.

“How’s Eurus doing? Sorry if I’m prying but Sherlock told me about her.” After overcoming his initial shock, the British Government replied, “Eurus is doing rather well, she’s improving.” Since Molly already knew about his sister, Mycroft wondered why she was not angry at him.

The pathologist proved to be extremely perceptive. “Eurus is, pardon my choice of words, mentally unstable. You did what you thought was the right thing to do. It’s not fair to put the entire blame on your shoulders. You may be the British Government, Mycroft but you are not Superman. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Things will get better.” Molly smiled warmly at him and the British Government could feel his future turned a shade brighter because of her words.

“Would you like to have tea someday?” Molly did not believe that Mycroft realised he was running his hand across the baby’s back in a smoothing manner, “I think Rosie is dozing off and yes, I would like to have tea with you someday.” The door opened and the crime-fighting duo returned from their investigations.

“I should take a pic-“

“Don’t even think about it, Dr Watson.”

“Can’t let the public know what a big softie you are, eh? Here are the case notes, Molls. Come on, Rosie, it’s time for your nap.”

The pathologist was reading the notes written down by John while the Holmes brothers were communicating non-verbally over her head. Molly looked up and found them to be looking back at her, “Well then, shall we start discussing the case?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are disappointed with the ending, I do apologise however I have thought long and hard about it and I went with my instincts to write an open-ended one. It's a brand new start for them so who knows what will happen in the future? (also because I don't want to choose between Mollcroft and Sherlolly, very difficult for me to make a choice!) 
> 
> To every reader who read the whole story, thank you so much *hugs* and hopefully I will get to see you all very soon :)


End file.
